


None of it is Real

by grumpyphoenix



Series: Brain Salad [23]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Derealization, Dissasociation, Not Beta Read, mental distress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 20:45:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16272026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpyphoenix/pseuds/grumpyphoenix
Summary: They seperated Dean from Michael, but he just isn't the same.





	None of it is Real

“I know what’s wrong.”  Dean’s in the kitchen already, halfway through a cup of coffee.

Sam closes his eyes. People bustle past him, the back and forth breakfast crowds busy with hunts, talking, hustling. He and Dean are rocks in a river. He’s really tired.

Someone refills Dean’s cup, and he ignores it the way he always does, like the bunker is full of phantoms. Sam sits. They’d confiscated all the booze on the second night after Dean’s return. The expected angry rant never came; he just switched to sleeplessness and coffee. Sam’s not sure what his brother’s pulse rate is, but it’s probably not something he wants to know.

He leans in close to Sam, breath rank from stomach acid and carelessness. “We’re in a story. Chuck never stopped writing. All these crazy things that keep happening, our bad decisions. He’s screwing with our lives. And we. We’re living through a ton of these stupid short stories.”

Charlie comes through the kitchen, engrossed in a conversation. Access to everything this world has to offer has put the lustre back in her hair and the chirp back into her voice, but the steel in her eyes marks her as a stranger. Seeing her and Bobby always makes it worse for him. Dean pauses, eyes narrowed.

Sam takes the opening. “She’s real, Dean. It’s all real. They, they are all real.”

He snorts. “It’s never been real.” 

He has no response to that, except to close his eyes again. Maybe if he could sleep, he could think through it, find some kind of way to bring Dean back. So far, he has no answer for his brother’s assertion that nothing is real. It’s better than his conviction that he’s still in hell. Maybe. If he could just sleep, maybe it would be workable, but he can’t. All of the refugees are relentless in their pace, and Sam isn’t sure he blames them. The archangel raised quite an army of monsters before they pulled him out of Dean. They want payback. Someone has to lead them.

Dean whispers, “I miss Cas.”  

Sam grabs his face and stares at him, hard. “Castiel is here. He’s in this damn bunker, Dean. Go and talk to him. He’s desperate to see you.”

It breaks him, like every mention of Cas does.. Dean tears away from Sam, face twisting in fear as he stumbles off the bench, spilling the coffee all over himself. The pain of the coffee’s burn doesn’t even phase him.

“You’re a trick, too. I can’t believe I fell for it. Castiel is  _ dead _ , and you fucking thought I wouldn’t remember. I’m not playing your games, Michael.”

Sam doesn’t chase him. No one will let Dean out of the bunker, and he only ever goes back to his room to look at pictures of Cas and pretend he isn’t crying. Eventually he’ll start pacing again, and come back out for more coffee. Maybe he can get Mom to treat Dean’s burn then. He has work to do.


End file.
